


At Her Back

by Llama1412



Series: Chronic Pain [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, F/M, I hurt and I'm sharing the misery, Massage, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Yennefer was born with a twisted spine. Her transformation had cured her, but she still felt the pain as if nothing had changed. Geralt offers Jaskier's services as a masseuse.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Chronic Pain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667773
Comments: 17
Kudos: 282





	At Her Back

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many types of chronic pain, I've decided to distribute them amongst my favorite characters lol. This isn't part of any particular universe - I just wanted to dream about a nice massage.

“Your back?” Geralt rumbled softly in query after seeing Yennefer’s wince.

Her back always gave her trouble, even after her transformation. It shouldn’t – the magic had untwisted her spine, reattached her muscles. There was no reason she should still feel that ache deep in her back, still have the same limited range of motion. Medically, her body was perfect – the only aberration was the cost of transformation. And yet, Yennefer still felt that ache caused by standing for any period of time, still couldn’t twist her body to either side more than a few inches. It was maddening.

“You know,” Geralt said, “if it would help, Jaskier is pretty good at massages.”

At his name, Jaskier looked up from his lute. “Good hands,” he smirked. “I’ve got some oils for muscle pain, too. Can’t hurt, right?”

Yennefer observed the bard through narrowed eyes for a moment. Was there a downside to accepting? Her pain was hardly a secret, and the bard was hardly threatening to let at her back. “All right.”

Yennefer shifted onto her stomach. Geralt moved to sit at the head of the bed, pillowing her head in his lap and brushing his fingers through her hair. Jaskier approached the bed and knelt above her knees. She felt Jaskier’s fingers rest hesitantly on her low back where the blouse had ridden up. “All right?”

“Believe me, bard, if you do something I object to, you will know.” Briefly, Yennefer considered getting up to remove her shirt, but that would mean moving, and that meant pain, and it just didn’t seem worth it. She could probably magic it away, but that required effort and she just did not have the energy. “I’m not moving. Just lift my top out of the way.”

Jaskier gave a nervous chuckle. “Right then.” He pushed her shirt up, then stopped to pour oil on his hands. “You feel it mostly in your back, right?”

Yennefer hummed, eyes closing. Geralt brushed her hair out of her face, and she felt Jaskier’s thumbs dig into her spine just at  _ that _ spot in the small of her back. Following the line of her spine, his hands stroked up and down her back, then the heel of his hand dug into the muscles right next to her spine. Slowly, she felt the tension melt out of her. 

She wasn’t sure if the massage actually helped her pain, or if she just luxuriated in it enough to block out the pain. Either way, it was nice, being touched so gently and yet so firmly, with no intent to arouse. There weren’t many she would allow at her back like this, who she would allow to touch like this. And yet, for all her disdain for the bard, she couldn’t imagine anyone else in his place right now. Geralt cared about her, she knew, and he wanted to take her pain away. But he couldn’t. That’s why he’d suggested Jaskier. He didn’t trust his hands to bring pain relief, but he trusted the bard. 

She breathed deeply, and let herself feel the comfort that was being offered. Geralt’s hands stroked through her hair, slowly and methodically. Jaskier’s hands – fingertips roughed with callouses, but palm slicked with an oil that smelled faintly floral – spread across her low back, slowly forcing her muscles to release. It was the best she had felt in ages, and she let herself enjoy it.


End file.
